


You Haunt Me

by spookyspook



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Danganronpa 2 - Freeform, Despair, Fluff, Hope, Hope vs. Despair, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, Spoilers, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, adding more tags i guess, give hajime a hug please, god i love angst dont you, nagito has atacthment issues, nagito kinda thirsty tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-05-15 05:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyspook/pseuds/spookyspook
Summary: It has been 3 months since Hajime and the other survivors of Jabberwock Island's Killing Game have beaten Junko, and no one has woken up. Hajime has been in a rocky mental state- everything seems grey, like nothing will ever change this hopeless to situation.One night, after being plagued with headaches all day, Hajime has a vivid dream of Nagito, talking to him, only to awaken and realize that his dream is more of a reality that he never saw coming.Will Nagito bring Hajime back down into despair, or will he rise above with new wings of hope?TW: allusions to depression





	1. Vivid

The room was black.

Black walls, black floor, black bed, black windows that looked out to a black beach and black sky.

This was all starkly familiar to Hajime. Was he back? No. He had just fallen asleep, in his own bed, after he had been plagued with headaches and vivid images of a familiar smiling face and sounds of laughter ringing in his ears. But, this had to be a dream.

Then, Hajime’s heart froze.

Why was _he_ here?

Why was he standing?

Why was he still alive?

That white hair and pale face, standing by the black window, a small breeze ruffling it more than it already was. He turned, but didn’t say anything, just smiled that damned, sweet, innocent smile that Hajime knew too well.

Hajime’s heart managed to kickstart itself again, this time going into overdrive. It pounded in his ears, so loud that he thought the other boy would hear. He could feel the sweat trickle down his face and that familiar chilling sensation in his spine that he thought he would never feel again.

The silence hung between them.

“‘ _You..._ ” Hajime finally whispered hesitantly, desperately trying to keep his voice even.

No response. Just that smile. That damned, knowing smile.

“Are you...alive...?”

No response. No answer.

The answer that Hajime was looking for was in that memory that was as clear as day to him. That video. The music. The smell of burning and ash. And finally, that bloody body. Red everywhere. On his hands, on the spear that protruded perfectly out of his body. The familiar smell of fresh blood on his nose. _His_ lifeless, mangled body.

And what came after, Hajime didn’t forget either. That trial. The most harrowing for himself and everyone else. Chiaki’s doubt that led to that awful, awful decision. Her final moments before she was crushed by that giant Tetris block that he was forced to watch.

All because of “ultimate” luck.

Hajime couldn’t forget or forgive that damned smile he had fallen for too many times to count.

“Answer me, Komaeda,” Hajime growled out, his voice tight and his fists clenched.

The white haired figure just kept smiling.

“Using my last name? I thought we were on better terms, _Hajime._ ” His words sounded sweet and innocent.

They always had.

Yet, Hajime stiffened at the use of his first name. He used to secretly love the way it sounded on Nagito’s voice. Now he openly hated it. He didn’t say anything, and waited for Nagito to speak again.

“Am I on trial again?”

“Nearly.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Yes you did.”

Nagito’s smile seemed to broaden and Hajime wanted to rip it off his face. “ _I_ didn’t kill anyone. _She_ did,” Nagito stated matter of factly, raising an eyebrow rather slyly.

Hajime snapped. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Faster than he knew himself, Hajime slammed into Nagito, his hand on his throat and shoving him up against the wall’s space right beside the window.

“A-ah. Haji...me...I can’t...” Hajime heard Nagito squeak out but couldn’t get himself to loosen up and instead gripped tighter. He could feel Nagito’s fast pulse in his neck under his hands. He didn't know why, but it felt incredibly satisfying. But at the same time, Hajime knew that this was too real to be a dream.

“You fucking _bastard!_ ” Hajime snarled. Gone was the composure he had started with. All that was left was rage and pure fury. All directed at the so-called “Ultimate Hope.”

“Don’t you dare give me that _bullshit!_ You knew _exactly_ what you were doing. And you knew _exactly_ that you were _killing._ ” Hajime seethed, but paused, daring to look right at Nagito. He was smiling still, despite the fact that oxygen wasn’t readily available to him.

Hajime’s hand curled around tighter, to the point to where he thought his own fingers would snap off. “ _You_ might as well be the fucking _blackened!_ ” Hajime yelled, this time feeling the tears spring out of his eyes, hot and streaming down his face.

Chiaki’s face flashed in front of Hajime’s eyes. Her smile, her voice. Her words that meant so much. She was the one person who never stopped believing in him; he never stopped believing in her. And Nagito had ripped her away. All for his twisted sense of hope. It was to bring them together? Like hell. It broke him. Shattered him. Even when Chiaki gave her last few words to himself before the game ended, Hajime still felt lost. The future was theirs, but how could he start building what he wanted so badly?

“It’s all because of _you!_ ” Hajime’s yell was hoarse with tears. “ _You_ killed her. _You_ killed _my_ hope! I had something, and like always, like _fucking always_ , you took it from me!” Hajime slammed Nagito against the wall once more. Everything hurt, from his hands to his head to his heart. Was killing this image of Nagito going to help? Probably not in the long run, but it certainly felt satisfying to let him know the pain that he had been holding in.

But then, a warm hand on his own. Hajime suddenly blinked up at the feeling. Nagito was looking very purple, but held a pleading look on his face.

“D-don’t...p..please...” Nagito’s voice was barely audible and he didn’t move his hand, keeping it on Hajime’s.

Hajime then remembered again, as much as he didn’t want to. Their walks on the beach. How after each trial, Nagito came to find him, to talk to him. To apologize with those words Hajime now knew were fake but felt so real at the time. His soft white hair on his hands and his voice in his ear.

Hajime didn’t know why, but he let go of Nagito’s throat. Everything that Nagito has ever given to him was a lie. Maybe a little part of himself hoped that some shred of it all was true.

Hajime stepped back, the red haze of his vision clearing. Nagito fell to the floor, barely able to keep himself propped on his arms, coughing, gasping, breathing. They stayed like that, just regaining their breath, for what seemed like an hour to Hajime. He didn’t take his green eyes off Nagito. He may have let him off the hook this time, but he still needed to talk to him about everything before he did anything more rash than he already had.

Nagito then wobbled to his feet. He still looked a little out of breath, but his normal coloring had returned to his face. He coughed again, dusting himself off. “I didn’t really expect...that,” he said, still calm, yet a slight wheeze in his voice, a faint grin on his face.

“Yeah. And I didn’t expect to see _you_ again,” Hajime didn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

Nagito’s smile seemed to falter. He almost looked...hurt. But, Hajime didn’t buy it. There was no way he could trust Nagito. Not ever again.

Nagito put his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked over to the black bed and sat. He looked strangely unconfident now.

“As I saw, you...probably...have things to say to me...and some questions.” Nagito tried to smile again but it failed and took a hand out of his pocket and scratched the back of his head. Hajime’s eyes narrowed a little. “So, sit.” Nagito patted the space next to him on the bed. Hajime made no move.

“Or...not. So cold!” Nagito sighed, obviously trying to seem unbothered.

Silence fell again. Hajime kept his gaze trained on Nagito, his arms crossed. The white haired boy was looking down at his hands. All the confidence from before was gone.

Then, Hajime cleared his throat and Nagito’s head snapped up, his teal eyes wide. Those eyes. Those damned eyes Hajime had fallen for. They could fit an ocean in them. He felt a sharp pang in his heart and wondered why he was hurting so much.

“First off, are you dead?” Hajime finally asked flat and even.

“Yes.”

He already knew the answer, yet it still felt like a punch in the gut. “So, what is this place?”

“That’s...kind of a long story,” Nagito said with a little laugh.

“I’ve got time.”

Nagito sighed, running his hands through his white hair. “Okay, Okay...When I was...killed-“

“No, when you killed yourself,” Hajime interjected. Even after all this time, he could not and would not accept that Nagito’s death was a “murder.”

Nagito didn’t stop, not saying anything to Hajime’s remark. “I obviously lost consciousness. I didn’t figure out that it all was some simulation, so I just expected to...I don’t know...maybe be reunited with my parents...or my dog. I kind of wish that happened instead...” he trailed off for a little, but continued soon after.

“But I wasn’t. It felt like I woke up right after all the pain stopped. I was still...conscious. I think. It was just a weird feeling. I was walking, but it wasn’t me doing the walking. Sort of like watching TV or playing one of those first-person shooter games, except you’re not controlling the person.

“It was silent for a little, and my vision was fuzzy. But pretty quickly, the voices got louder and the...picture...cleared. Now that I think about it, the game was probably loading.”

Hajime kept listening quietly, but felt a cold bit of dread trickle down his spine as Nagito kept telling his account.

“Eventually, everything came into focus and everyone’s voices were clear. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I saw Sonia, Akane, Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, and...Chiaki.” Nagito paused before saying her name and Hajime’s heart gave another pang.

“I tried calling out to them, but I...I heard my voice in my head but not when I said it. S-Sorry. It’s kind of hard to describe.” Nagito gave an expecting smile, but was met with Hajime’s razor sharp glare that meant for him to continue on.

His smile dropped and he looked away. “But a-anyways...I saw my own body. That was a little hard to process, despite...everything...and it being my choice, ” Nagito paused. His hand subconsciously brushed his stomach, right at the spot where the spear had impaled him.

“You all were investigating. Staring at my body. But the entire time your voice was the loudest.” Nagito paused. Hajime felt a part of him not wanting Nagito to continue. “And then I realized,” the corners of Nagito’s mouth quirked up. “I was inside your mind.” He looked up from his hands. Hajime clenched his jaw as he met Nagito’s gaze. His breaths became deep and trying to be steady.

“So, you saw...the trial?” Hajime asked, his voice tight.

He wished he hadn’t asked that question. Nagito’s chilling grin returned, his eyes taking on that familiar, almost crazed, gleam. “Yes! I did!” Nagito jumped to his feet. “And I saw...I saw your wonderful, _wonderful_ hope!” Nagito clenched his shirt with a hand, his breathing excited and ragged. Hajime’s gaze darkened. Still the same Nagito. Nothing had changed.

“The trial...it was... _beautiful!_ ” Nagito exclaimed, his hand moving across his collarbone. “I became what I’ve always wanted to be...I really was a stepping stone for you all...for your hope...” his voice dropped into a whisper.

“It didn’t really go how I wanted to...but I got you out of there...I got you all out of there...I really-“

“Stop it. Just, fucking _stop it,_ ” Hajime cut in with a hiss. He hated this side of Nagito- the true Nagito. He swayed in between demeaning himself and putting himself on a pedestal, and always left Hajime reeling, confused. But what of the time they spent together? The time they just held each other close. That had felt like the real Nagito also.

Nagito stopped like Hajime had commanded. He looked up, his teal eyes meeting Hajime’s yellow and red. They seemed to stare deeper than just being able to see what was on the surface.

Those accursed eyes.

Nagito took slow steps forward, until he was only a breath’s width away from Hajime. Hajime didn’t feel back, as much as he wanted to. Instead, he just locked his jaw and kept his arms crossed, eyes fixed on Nagito’s. “You know that without that trial, without Chiaki dying...” as he spoke in his low whisper, Nagito traced his fingers up Hajime’s arms, until his hands held Hajime’s head.

It took Hajime everything in him to not push Nagito away. He swallowed, hard. A part of him missed this. The feeling of Nagito close to him. The feeling of his heart beating on his chest. But that other part told him that this wasn’t real. It never was. All Nagito had done was twist his emotions into feelings into false promises and empty words.

Nagito had never loved him.

“Without Chiaki dying...everyone’s hope wouldn’t have been...brought together. That hope...” Nagito seemed to bring him in closer.

“That hope that shone through you...that white, _gorgeous_ hope...”

Hajime’s heart was beating-pounding- so hard, to where he thought that it was going to burst through his chest. He tried to conceal a dry swallow, but Nagito seemed to notice, and his smile grew wider, but almost more gentle.

“It was...No. _You_ were so beautiful. So full of hope...” Nagito whispered, and moved in closer, attempting a kiss.

All of this felt too familiar to Hajime. How Nagito would reassure him. Tell him everything was going to be okay. That everything would make sense. That he was on the right path. And how he would reassure Nagito. Tell him everything was going to be okay. That everything would make sense.

Hajime wanted that familiar warmth between them again. Badly. Everything had been so bleak. His future was his own but what exactly was his future?

But he couldn’t take Nagito’s false promises. Not any more.

Hajime violently pulled back out of Nagito’s hands and pushed Nagito away, who staggered a bit and then just stood, a look of hurt and disbelief on his face. “What?” He whispered. His eyes were wide and Hajime forced himself to look into them.

“I...No,” Hajime said with a slight growl. “You’re wrong.” He tried to keep himself and look steady but obviously he didn’t, as Nagito’s smile changed from a caring, wanting one, to a knowing one.

“How?” He tilted his head, his eyes twinkling.

Hajime opened his mouth to say something, but realized that he had nothing. It felt like he had just lost some influence in a trial.

“Exactly, Hajime. You _know_ I’m right,” Nagito put a finger to his mouth, smiling sweetly.

“No. I know you’re wrong...I just...” Hajime looked down and dropped his hands and then looked up. “I’ll figure it out. I always do,” he said with conviction, though he didn’t really feel it.

Then, Nagito started to laugh. Not menacingly like he had in that first, awful trial, but childlike, full of genuine amusement. Hajime knew that he only would laugh like that when it was just them two, alone.

“That’s what I _love_ about you, Hajime. No matter what, you never, never give up hope,” Nagito said gently and Hajime felt sick. “It’s truly a gift for a person like me to see that look of determination on your face.” He gave another small laugh as Hajime felt his own face redden.

“No-that’s not-“ Hajime tried to interject; like always, Nagito always twisted his words to make them something that he could understand and worship.

But, Nagito kept talking. “Yet...you yourself know how _easy_ it is to give into despair.” And like a snap of fingers, Nagito was back to his “normal” self, with his knowing, darkened eyes and almost sinister looking grin.

“So, _Hajime._ You’re not going to give up this time, right?” Nagito cocked his head, his tone nearly mocking. Hajime stiffened. Nagito this way was always dangerous.

“Prove me wrong, okay? Like you...like you always did in those trials.” The white haired boy gave a laugh, this time not so full of innocence.

“It was always so _wonderful_ to watch! I’m looking forward to it!” Nagito’s laugh sent chills up Hajime’s spine. It was so loud, so familiar it rang in his ears; he felt his heart quicken in pace and he looked down and saw that the floor was no longer underneath his feet. A falling sensation, except all around him was pitch black, and he jolted awake, light flooding his eyes.

He was alive, in his own room, without Nagito. Right?

The memory of his...dream...was so vividly fresh in his mind it didn’t feel like a dream at all. It felt like it had actually happened. That Nagito was still alive, that they actually shared a conversation and almost a kiss.

Those wide eyes, those wide, ever-changing eyes, big enough to hold the entire world in them.

They were too real.

Hajime’s hands curled tightly around his sheets. “Just...just calm down. It’s not real. He’s...” he whispered to himself, but was stopped mid-sentence by a voice in his head that he thought he had imagined.

“ _Dead? I’m not, I told you._ ” It was sing-song, twistedly playful and all too known to Hajime.

His heart stopped. A cold sweat. Every hair on his head stood on end. No. This couldn’t be possible. This had to be another dream but he knew it wasn’t.

“You’re...haunting me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter!! I definitely had fun writing it hehe I have a thing with angst so yep hold on to your seatbelts everyone 
> 
> I have 2 more chapters that I will be uploading very soon, probably once every week*ish*- but after that updates may get a bit spotty aaaa (i'm strugglin with html please forgive me if something looks off)
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how long this will be, I have an ending in mid, but I guess it depends on how much extra and side character devlopment I'd want to put in?? 
> 
> Still, I'm hoping you all enjoy my story uwu i just love this game series and this ship especially with all my heart <3


	2. Real

Silence.

Just the sound of his heart thundering in his ears.

Just the sound of his heavy breathing.

Just the sound of his fingers curling tighter around his sheets.

It was deafening.

Hajime wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t a dream. Nothing could be more real.

 _“What’s the matter? ‘Kuma got your tongue?”_ That singsong voice, laughing like a windchime, Hajime could almost imagine the expression on Nagito’s face as he spoke.

“N-no...” Hajime managed to choke out. His eyes just stared at his own hands gripping the sheets of his bed. He was scared to look up. Scared that he’d see Nagito in his room just like he had last night. Smiling. Looking on with those big eyes of his. Mocking.

So, he just sat in the excruciating silence while the sound of his heart thrumming against his rib cage filled his ears. Breathing. Slowly getting slower. This wasn’t the worst he’d faced. The feeling of that awful game trumped this. Probably.

 _’Keep yourself steady. You’re just imagining things.’_ Hajime told himself, letting out a shaky sigh. He blinked once, hard, trying to get all the jitters out. The awfully sweet voice hadn’t spoken since he had woken a few minutes ago. A good sign right?

Then, slowly, hesitantly, Hajime looked up from his hands and around his room. Empty as usual. No black walls and windows and certainly no black beach and black sky. Everything was in vivid color, just had it always had been and would always.

Hajime breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in his bed. He _felt_ the anxiousness roll off his shoulders. Nagito was still dead, and he wasn’t going to have to see him again.

“Just...a dream...” Hajime told himself again, letting himself indulge in a small smile.

Too early to celebrate.

_“God, sometimes you’re *so* dense. Really, you’re acting a reserve course student.”_

No. Not again. Not that voice. It wasn’t leaving him alone.

Hajime jolted from his moment of serenity off his bed and to his feet, his heart beating at breakneck rhythm. He grabbed a pen from the nightstand beside his bed, and held it out in front of him like a knife while he whirled around, looking for some sign of that white haired boy.

“Wh-where are you?” Hajime managed to choke and growl out, his one yellow eye and one red eye flickered around the room. The room was still empty.

A sigh-an exasperated sigh at that-played in his head. It was loud, like the person who uttered it was next to him. _“I *told* you. I’m in your head.”_ Hajime could imagine Nagito’s eyes rolling with annoyance.

“Well. Get. The _fuck._ Out.”

A laugh. _“Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”_

Hajime still hadn’t put down his pen, but he had stopped whirling around like someone who was probably crazier than he already was. His eyes narrowed. “Why? I don’t want you...in my head. I want you...” _Dead._ Hajime didn’t finish. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why his heart had hurt and didn’t allow him to say that word. It was the truth, right?

 _“Again, so cold.”_ Hajime couldn’t see Nagito’s expression, but thought he detected some sort of hurt in his carefree-sounding words. _”But...I *guess* you deserve answers. We didn’t really finish last night.”_ He guessed that Nagito was probably smiling right now. Probably not a friendly one.

Hajime hesitantly lowered his pen but kept holding on to it. He felt rather strange just standing in the middle of his room, panting, alone, so he slowly walked over to his bed and sat and stared out the window at the rolling and crashing waves. It was so real, just like the game. Had he been put in another? No. There was no way. There had to be no way.

Nagito’s words cut through his thoughts like a blade. _Like I *said* last night, I *am* dead.”_

“Then why-“

 _”Physically. I left that out.”_ Hajime imagined Nagito shrugging nonchalantly. Again, just like in a trial, he had purposefully left that important distinction out. Probably to get the reaction he wanted. Hajime’s fist clenched- even in his quasi-dead state, he was manipulative.

_”But I guess...mentally, I’m not. I don’t have a body, but I have my mind. Except that it’s sort of linked with yours.”_

Hajime kept on listening, though he had a sinking feeling on what Nagito was going to say next.

_”In other words, my consciousness got uploaded...no, merged into yours when I died.”_

At those words, a chill made its way up Hajime’s body, raiding every hair on him, from his legs to his arms to his hair. As much as he wanted so desperately to deny this all and self-diagnose himself with severe schizophrenia, he knew deep in himself that this was all real. With last night...dreams were where one’s mind ventured deep into one’s consciousness- his brain had simply created the image of what was there.

As crazy as it was, _it made sense._ The only thing was _why had it happened?_

“Then...why?” Hajime whispered. He swallowed hard. He didn’t like this, Nagito in his mind. Did he know what he was thinking? Could he see his memories? Could he those memories, of before the game? Hajime’s breathing became deeper, more desperate to be even. Could he see when he was...just Izuru? He was too scared to ask. The question was choked and stuck in his throat.

_”In all honesty, I don’t know myself. My only explanation was that it was all a glitch.”_

“A...glitch. Seriously? That seems too easy. The program was flawless.”

_”I think so too. It really makes no sense. But...every program is bound to screw up sooner or later. It’s just natural. Nothing in this world is perfect. Certainly not me. All I am is-“_

“Just stop, Komaeda. I don’t want to hear that anymore.” Hajime interrupted, a hint of a snarl in his voice. If Nagito was _really_ in his head, talking, Hajime wasn’t going to have his days and mind filled with outcries of how “glorious” hope was or how much of a degenerate price of filth Nagito was.

He rubbed his eyes with a hand, then ran it through his messy brown hair and put his head in his hands. What the hell was even going on? In one night, his world was flipped upside down- a feeling similar to that last trial’s, when everything had been revealed. Nagito was a dead man walking-well, talking. And all because of some presumed glitch. Why himself, though? Why not Kazuichi or Sonia or just anyone else? Hajime felt a little bad about wishing Nagito’s...consciousness on someone else, but shook it away. They honestly would have wondered the same thing.

A few moments passed, but Nagito didn’t say anything else. It was odd- Hajime felt rather strange sitting in the silence. Had he gotten used to Nagito’s words in his mind so quickly? Was he missing them? Did he really want Nagito dead and out of his head?

Hajime stopped his train of thought. Yes...right? Nagito had done something so terrible, so awful, and so completely _unforgivable._ He had basically killed-murdered- all for his own selfish reasons. For what he thought was “hope.” For what he thought had brought them together. Hajime knew he was wrong. He just...knew. And he still had to prove why to Nagito- he hadn’t forgotten about that last night. But even still, those quiet, tender memories of them together tugged at the edges of his mind. Did he really miss that? That feeling of knowing that he was _wanted?_

“Hey...Komaeda,” Hajime spoke, his voice calm, yet with a note of hesitance, looking up nearly expecting to see Nagito, standing in front of him. He felt oddly disheartened to see that he wasn’t. Despite all this, he refused to say his first name.

No response still. Hajime didn’t know what that meant, so he continued.

“Do you rem...” Hajime stopped. No. Bringing up those memories would only hurt himself more. He switched. “Why do think you ended up in my mind, and not someone else’s?”

A few heartbeats. His question hung in the air and Hajime nearly convinced himself that he just had just imagined the whole thing again, but Nagito spoke again.

_“I think...because you were the last thing I thought of. Before I died.”_

Hajime‘s entire body tensed and he felt a rosy heat on his cheeks and ears. Yet, he was still a bit on guard. Could this be another trick?

 _“I saw your face, through the smoke and pain. I thought of our time together. Just us together. Laughing and smiling. Those memories are what made...dying bearable,”_ Nagito explained softly, tenderly even. Maybe he was smiling a little. Not his scary, terrifying smile that he wore in a trial, but that hidden one that only Hajime knew.

_“That pain. My entire body was on fire with it. I couldn’t scream. But I remembered you, and how you met every challenge with determination and I felt okay after that. I remembered the sound of your voice and...it was black.”_

Hajime bit his lip and tried to blink away the wet in his eyes. Nagito sounded so sincere, so honest and Hajime felt small tears well in his eyes that he couldn’t get rid of. Why? Why was he still missing Nagito after everything? He hated Nagito for it- for playing with his emotions and feelings like a cat with a ball of yarn. Making him feel safe, only to revoke all of it in a trial to proclaim his true love.

He gave an angry sigh. He wanted this all to be real. Tangible. But, that other part of Hajime knew it wasn’t. Nothing Nagito had ever given to him was. He had proved that with his death. “If you...If you _loved_ me so much,” his voice trembled with emotion, “why did you try to kill us- _me_ \- in the trial?” Hajime hissed, tears beginning to tumble down his face.

 _”I only wanted to have the greatest hope prevail. And it *did.* Splendidly!”_ Nagito’s tone had changed in an instant to the one that Hajime hated.

“You...and your...your fucking _hope_ was worth more than me? Than us?” Hajime stood, unable to contain his anger and frustration sitting down. His fists were clenched and he was still crying.

He didn’t let Nagito respond and continued on with his yelling. “All you are is a _selfish bastard!_ Justifying your actions by saying it was for the ‘good of _hope’_ or for _‘everyone’_. Don’t fucking give me that _shit!”_ Hajime’s voice rose into a yell. He wasn’t sure what expression Nagito was wearing. It just made it worse to not be able to see his face or be able to rip the guy’s throat out.

“If you were _really_ concerned-“ Hajime started, but was interrupted by the click of his door. He whipped around, pen in hand and pointed like a knife, tearstains on his cheeks, eyes wild, and half-expecting Nagito to be standing in the doorframe.

Instead, he was greeted with a very pale, very confused, and very worried looking Fuyuhiko. His yellow eyes stared at the pen pointed at his throat, then, slowly they moved up to look at Hajime’s messy hair and flaming eyes.

“Well. Good morning to you too Hajime.”

Hajime thought he could hear Nagito laughing under the deafening sound of his pounding heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading!! I know this chpater is a bittt short but I still hoped you enjoyed it nonetheless;; 
> 
> Also, my amazing friend did a reading of this Chapter! Find it here: https://soundcloud.com/user-786455270/you-haunt-chapter-2-komehina ! Disregard the chapter notes at the begining ah a and times where the grammar or words seem strange- she was reading off the draft document :,))  
> She decided to redo Chapter 1 so once it is finished I'll put the link with that chapter C:
> 
> But, anways, I hope you guys are having fun reading it thus far and continue to!


	3. Tangible

Hajime’s hands were shaking.

He was trying to keep them as still and steady as he could. To restrict that jagged movement and appear somewhat sane. But, that only resulted in what looked like anxious shivering.

He was scared. And there was nothing he could do to hide it.

It still felt like nothing had been cleared up with the whole Nagito situation- Hajime still wasn’t sure what the boy in his head was capable of.

And that scared him. To the point where he felt like every beat of his heart felt like it was jumping out of his chest, to where he could feel each individual bead of sweat trickle down his face, to where his hands shook, no matter how hard he tried to will them not to.

“Can you put...uh... _that_ down?” Fuyuhiko’s cautious voice sliced through Hajime’s thoughts. His eyes snapped into focus, meeting Fuyuhiko’s with intensity. The shorter boy took a slight step back, and Hajime thought he saw a flash of fear glint in his gaze.

Slowly, Hajime swallowed, then slowly, and still shakily he brought his arm down and then dropped the pen. He was still panting.

“W-what are you-you doing here?” Hajime finally managed to choke out, slipping over his words. He could practically _feel_ Nagito’s wide grin, even if he couldn’t see it.

Fuyuhiko looked even more confused at the question. “You’re usually at breakfast... _dressed_ by now. I was worried, and...I guess my worry paid off.” He was blunt, as always, and his eyes were hard, as always, yet they seemed to have some sort of concern in them.

Wait, was it really already breakfast? Hajime whipped around to check his clock by his bed. Yep, everyone was supposed to be in the dining hall about twenty minutes ago. He hadn’t put his alarm on for some reason, and the conversation with Nagito had completely occupied him.

Hajime looked back over at Fuyuhiko, who was dressed in his everyday suit and immediately felt his face flush. He was still in his pajamas, not even ready to go. “I’ll...get dressed. Right now,” He said hurriedly. “You don’t have to worry about anything,” Hajime added on, his heart still pounding.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes seemed to narrow a bit. “Yeah. I’ll wait outside.” With that, the short boy walked out of Hajime’s room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Once Fuyuhiko was gone, Hajime let out something that was between a growl and sigh and rubbed his eyes with his hand. Great. This morning was going just great. First, that awful conversation with the madman in head mind, and now, nearly shoving a pen into a friend’s throat. Hajime felt like he was going crazy himself.

 _“Fuyuhiko, careful as always!”_ The familiar, singsong voice in Hajime’s head chirped. _“I really missed that side of him.”_

 _“Shut up._ He for sure didn’t miss any side of you,” Hajime snapped back under his breath, still a bit wary if Fuyuhiko was listening in through the wall or door.

 _“What about you? Did *you* miss me?”_ Nagito asked, though serious, with some hint of playfulness.

Hajime was buttoning his white shirt when Nagito questioned him. His hands stopped and he was frozen in action, a bit taken back by the question. Nagito was never this direct about anything. Even his feelings, even when he and Hajime were still in the game.

He just swallowed, his lips and throat suddenly dry.

It was strange. Ever since Nagito’s apparent death, he had shut off his feelings for him. His actions were unforgivable and done without regard at all to Hajime. Everything that Nagito had done was selfish, with a special point to manipulate Hajime.

That’s what Hajime had thought.

Why did it feel like Nagito had some sort of regret? Yet, why did it feel like he didn’t? Why was he hesitating, doubting himself? Hajime had thought he was past that, past thinking twice. Even in trials, Hajime was sure of his reasoning and logic. But now, this trial was nothing like he’d ever faced. The only evidence was his own feelings. Undetermined and inconclusive.

And Nagito knew that. That scared Hajime.

Hajime bit down on his lip, still not answering. He didn’t know what to say. Did he miss the calm of it all, the sweet words said to each other, the feeling of Nagito’s soft white hair in his hands, those sad eyes, full of pain and hurt that he wanted to badly to change? Did he miss the delusional, terrifying destructiveness of it all, with eyes crazed and violent and words that made no logical sense and yet connected perfectly?

The whispered promises that were now empty, killed as soon as that spear went through Nagito’s stomach, leaving him and it all splattered on the floor in a bloody mess?

Hajime felt his heart grow to a heavy weight in his chest, and he couldn’t swallow. Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, covering it slightly. His breaths became deep- he was trying to steady himself, but the tears were already beginning to slip down his cheeks. He held in a sob, the strain of it nearly breaking him.

“I...” Hajime choked out, but unsure how to finish.

Nothing made sense anymore.

“Hajime! What’s taking so long?” Fuyuhiko’s voice, and a quick knock on his door ripped Hajime back into reality. He whipped around, remembering that he had to go to breakfast. At least it was an excuse to give him more time to think about his answer.

“Y-Yeah! I’m almost done!” Hajime called back, wiping the tears from his eyes and face. Faster than he himself thought possible, Hajime finished buttoning his shirt, pulled on his pants, slipped on his shoes, and burst out of the door, into the outside air, straightening his green tie.

“Sorry!” Hajime quickly apologized to the skeptical looking Fuyuhiko, scratching the back of his head, looking away a bit sheepishly.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes seemed to narrow. Are you...okay?” He asked, hesitantly, but obviously worried and concerned.

Hajime stopped scratching his head. What was he going to tell Fuyuhiko? That Nagito was in his mind, sharing his consciousness, _talking to him?_ No way. He’d never believe him. And, Hajime was sure he wanted nothing more to do with Nagito. Even if he never woke up. It wasn’t _just_ Fuyuhiko- everyone would prefer to never hear his long tangents about his beliefs in “hope.”

But more than that, Nagito was the one whose hope caused their despair. Instead of attempting to stop the killing game, he encouraged it, uncaring if they would all go down with him.

To have him around everyone again...Hajime didn’t even want to imagine it. Having the psychopath in his head all to himself was enough.

“I’m...fine.” Hajime said curtly. “Bad dream, that’s all.”

 _“A bad dream- is that what I am?”_ Nagito cut in, his tone slightly joking, yet slightly hurt.

Fuyuhiko obviously didn’t buy it. “Seems like something more,” he retorted. “Look, you know if there’s something bothering you, you can talk to me. Don’t be a sissy- it’s better to let things out than to let them fester.”

Hajime just looked away not saying anything.

“Trust me, I know from experience.” Fuyuhiko crossed his arms, obviously not talking Hajime’s silence for an answer. He tone was unrelenting and forceful.

Even after knowing him for so long, Hajime sometimes still couldn’t believe that Fuyuhiko’s small stature could fit such a domineering personality inside. He felt like he had to stand up straighter when the blonde boy used that sort voice with him. And he felt like he should be completely honest.

“ _Ah~ Fuyuhiko isn’t giving up. Why don’t you tell him about me? He’ll be thrilled!”_ Nagito laughed inside Hajime’s mind. Not the sweet laugh, but the one full of contorted hope.

 _“Shut up.”_ Hajime snapped, growling quite loudly. Then, he froze, realizing he had said that out loud. He blinked up at Fuyuhiko, who had a surprised and shocked look on his face. Almost...hurt.

Then, it was gone, replaced by an expression of pure anger. “What the _fuck_ did you say to me, _bastard?”_ Fuyuhiko snarled, his voice low, taking a step forward.

Hajime swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and took a tentative step back. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t mean it. He wasn’t even talking to Fuyuhiko. But Fuyuhiko didn’t know, and couldn’t know.

 _”C’mon Hajime, tell him. Or do you really just want him off your back?”_ Nagito asked, his tone almost mocking. Hajime wasn’t sure. Nagito had spoken another truth that he had felt almost subconsciously. He really did know him too well.

“So now I get the silent treatment?” Fuyuhiko’s bark cut through Hajime’s thoughts. “You _fucker,_ we’re friends, right?” He had shoved his face into Hajime’s, looking hurt and furious. Hajime still couldn’t swallow.

Fuyuhiko’s question hung in the air. He sounded so desperate, so upset, yet Hajime didn’t know what to say. He stared blankly at Fuyuhiko, but no words came to him. Only the pounding of his heart in his ears filled the empty silence.

The shorter boy pulled back, yellow eyes flashing with irritated anger. _“Tch.”_ He spat. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you. I heard you yelling in your room, and I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” He paused, his gaze boring into Hajime. “And obviously, you _aren’t._ No dream causes you to have a fuckin’ imaginary conversation.”

Hajime was still silent. Fuyuhiko had hit right in the mark with his reasons for yelling. _“Why aren’t you answering him?”_ Nagito asked gently, sweetly, and Hajime wanted to yank his white hair out.

“Just _stop it.”_ Hajime hissed through his teeth, again, only realizing he had said it out loud after it was too late.

“Stop it? _Me?”_ Fuyuhiko snarled back, and Hajime couldn’t answer.

 _“Me? You want me to stop it?”_ Nagito laughed, the sound terribly familiar.

“I’m trying to help you, idiot!”

_“Admit it, you wanted me back~”_

Fuyuhiko’s yells, Nagito’s laughs, they blended and clamored together, cacophonous and louder than anything Hajime had ever heard before. They pierced into his ears, each syllable louder than the next.

“Hajime-“

_“~Hajime-~”_

_**“Hajime, are you listening?”** _

His hands started shaking again.

He was scared again.

He couldn't take it.

 _“LEAVE ME ALONE!”_ Hajime screamed over the sound of the both of them, just trying to block out the sounds in any way that he could.

They stopped.

Hajime put a hand to his mouth.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes were wide with shock and hurt.

Nagito’s were probably the same.

“P-please...” Hajime whispered to them both, holding back a sob. He could barely breathe because of it. Fuyuhiko didn’t say anything, and neither did Nagito.

Just the sounds of the wind and waves crashing in the distance.

Hajime met Fuyuhiko’s eyes for a brief moment, then, in shame, he turned away and began his walk away from the other boy, something heavy weighing his chest.

Something he hadn’t felt in a while.

Despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again!! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!! Things are starting to get angsty~ 
> 
> Again, thank you for all the kudos and love!! Hope you guys have had fun reading my story!


	4. Feeling

Hajime didn’t remember walking. 

And he wasn’t sure when he had exactly arrived, either, but he looked up from his shoes when he felt that familiar feeling of recognition within him.  

He hadn’t been here since he woke up.

A slight breeze ruffled his hair and shirt, wafting the familiar smell of ocean salt into his nose. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did anymore. 

He looked down at his hands, turning them palms up, then to the back and then once more on the other side and then put them down. Those were _his_ hands, right? Not made by zeroes and ones and letters all typed in- _woven_ in- in a perfect pattern. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together almost hesitantly. This sensation wasn’t generated by numbers, but Hajime wasn’t sure. 

This was all real, right? The salty, rolling waves that crashed upon the hot, white sands, the seagulls that called to one another and flapped their wings to fly in the endless blue sky- it had to be. Then why did it feel like it wasn’t? That trickle of doubt sunk down into an awfully familiar feeling that festered and grew with each passing second, causing the trancelike, emptiness that he now felt. 

Hajime looked up from his hands and at the grey, metallic building in front of him. It was where he had woken up, but also where eleven of his classmates lay unconscious their minds someplace unreachable. 

Well, all except for one. 

The brown haired boy gave a quiet sigh. Nothing was making sense, yet it all did. Everything felt numb and grey, even when he rubbed his two fingers together, he didn’ really feel it. He was tired all the time, and always felt like he had to force himself to keep a smile for everyone else. Kazuichi, Sonia, Akane, and… Fuyuhiko, hey all looked up to him, trusted him to lead like he had in their darkest hour against the ultimate despair of Junko Enoshima. Something hurt in Hajime’s heart. Some time ago, he had revelled in that despair, welcomed it. They all had. But now, all of it was crushing back down on him like a weight he could never lift off his shoulders. Hope? Hajime felt like there was none. He felt like the rest of his friends would never wake up. He felt like they’d all be stuck on the island again, wasting away until their bones were nothing more than the same sand that they walked upon now. 

And he couldn’t stand that thought. He wanted to go, to take not only his future back, but to take everyone else’s also. 

Maybe even Nagito’s also. Yet, Hajime didn’t know why after what he had done. Maybe because of those memories that kept hugging constantly at the back of his mind. Those sweet memories, of just them two, close and warm. The salty wind that he smelled now was the same he smelled back then, ruffling through Nagito’s soft white hair. His smile and his laugh riding the melody of it. Warm. 

Hajime missed that. 

He clenched his fist and continued to stare at the building. He didn’t want to go in and he couldn’t bring himself to, even after the three months since he awoke. Nagito’s voice saying that he was dead replayed in Hajime’s mind and the familiar feeling sank deep within Hajime’s heart. He didn’t want to see _it_. Not again. 

But now, with Nagito in his head, Hajime knew he had to.

Hajime grit his teeth and took a shaky step forward. _‘Just one at a time. Just one at a time, just…’_ He kept repeating to himself as he crossed the sandy path that lead up to the twin metallic doors. He didn’t even have to put his shaky hands on them- he could feel the stark, cold, and dark aura emanating from them, despite the hot, sweltering sun on his back. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine, raising goosebumps as it traveled. The pounding of his heart filled his ears, each beat a crack of thunder slamming into his ribcage. 

 _“Aren’t you going to open the door?”_ Nagito’s soft whisper raised the hair on Hajime’s arms higher than they already were. It was so quiet, Hajime almost thought it was a trick of his own consciousness. Almost. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

Hajime swallowed, his mouth dry. He didn’t want to. He didn't want to walk into that dark room and feel that despair root deeper into his heart. That despair that nothing would be solved. That despair that they couldn’t reach their futures. 

That despair he saw when he first woke up. Emptiness.

With his hands feeling heavy, Hajime placed them on the door. It was cold, despite the outside air being warm. His breathing was deep- an attempt to steady himself and the absolute dread within his chest. “Come on…” he whispered, unable to give the strength needed to push open the doors. His arms just weren’t listening to him. He willed them and they faltered and Hajime screwed his eyes shut and kept his shaky, deep cadence of breathing. 

 _“Do you want to do this together?”_ Hajime froze at the singsong voice in his mind. No. He didn’t want to do this at all. But the person in his head was forcing him to. He had to get to the bottom of it all. He had to find hope in this mess of despair. 

 _“It’s okay Hajime. I’m...I’m just happy that some piece of trash like me can help a person like you. I just want to see...that hope again…”_ Nagito’s tone switched and was gentle and normal. Genuine. What Hajime missed so much since he woke up. He clenched his jaw for a few seconds, holding his breath and then letting it all out. 

“You’re not making this any easier,” Hajime said, withered and quiet. “Just stop...calling yourself...words like that.” His arms trembled as he limply held them against the door, a pain tightly wound in his chest. He remembered on the beach, how he pulled Nagito in close against his chest when he talked like that. Soft white hair curled between his hands. Tears wetting his shirt. Shaky words and insecurities in a voice that cracked with each syllable. 

Yet, always warm.  

Their hearts beat together in tender rhythm, thrumming against each others’ chests, the gentle pounding comforting to them both. Like music. 

His hands on Nagito’s soft skin, feeling his cheeks and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Their faces growing ever so close, until their lips met and they breathed the same air. 

Nagito’s hands in his own hair, feeling their way down to his neck, bringing him close, holding the light in his palms, goosebumps following their path. 

 _‘It’s the truth.’_ Nagito’s tone, lighthearted and sad, as if talking about the death of a pet that happened a while ago, interjected its way into Hajime’s memory. 

Hajime held in a yell. He was tired of raising his voice after what had happened with Fuyuhiko. His throat hurt just thinking about it. Hajime breathed out a shaky breath, steadying himself. “You...never…” a lump in his throat. “...never were...” He felt his arms give out and he fell to the ground and gripping the sand in his hands. A tear fell, like a raindrop from his eye and the another. He was choking on his words. They were stopped in his throat and flowed out as the salty water that rolled down his cheeks. 

He cried, the sound of his quiet sobs and the waves crashing against the sand was all that filled the air. Nagito said nothing. 

Hajime missed Nagito in his arms. His eyes, his smile, his hair, his everything. He now knew that it was probably all just a facade, woven by Nagito; his feelings, pulled on strings like he was a puppet. But right now, in the sand, Hajime wasn’t sure if he cared anymore. 

He gave a trembling sigh, his tears dried on his face and eyes and sat up, the wind ruffling his already messy brown hair. He stared blankly at the swallowing blue sky, then closed his mismatched eyes, as if trying to make it all easier for him. 

“You never were worthless to me.” His voice was unwavering and clear. 

Another breeze.

No response, just the sound of seagulls playing in the clouds above. Hajime just wanted to hear his voice again. 

That feeling crept in again to his chest. Was it all just some delusion? Was Nagito really, really, and truly-

 _“Hajime-“_ Nagito’s voice was so soft that Hajime thought he imagined it. Was it breaking?

“Hajime?” A different voice, outside. Hajime whipped around, his eyes meeting familiar blue ones. 

“So-Sonia?” He stuttered, standing up quickly and flushing and brushing the sand off his clothes. Whenever he was around the princess, he couldn’t help but feel self conscious. Even during these grey times, Sonia still managed to look impeccably perfect with her neatly ironed dress, perfect black bow, and sparkling blonde hair. Hajime, on the other hand, looked as bad as he felt inside with his own crumply white shirt and tie that seemed to hang off of his frame. 

He attempted a sheepish grin but couldn’t hold it. Too many emotions and thoughts ran in his mind. Mostly about the boy in it. He sighed and averted his eyes while Sonia walked almost hesitantly towards Hajime, her gait making it so no sand would stick to her shoes or get on her dress. “What on _earth_ are _you_ doing here?” She asked, once nearer to Hajime. “You haven’t come here since...we woke up.” 

“I…” Hajime trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah, what on earth was he doing? Making sure that Nagito’s body was still there? Making sure that he was completely sane? Making sure that the voice in his head was real and not just some subconscious way of dealing with all of this pain and longing in his heart? A memory flashed in his eyes. Nagito’s unconscious body behind a glass case. He wouldn’t wake up no matter how much he had yelled.

He kept looking off, but eventually stole a glance back at Sonia. In her arms were four little hamsters. “What are you…” his eyes flickered the little balls of fur then back up at Sonia, trying his best to divert the subject away from himself. 

A faint, rosy blush arose upon Sonia’s cheeks. “I presume I’ve now been found out.” Her voice had a sad quality to it. “I come every day so the Devas can see their master.” She looked down at the hamsters in her arms, a faraway, melancholy smile on her face. “They miss him.”  

“O-oh...Yeah…I guess they would…”  Hajime knew that was only half of the truth. Behind Sonia’s perfect appearance, dark circles plagued under her eyes and weariness did within them. Her perfectly manicured hands trembled slightly, and she shifted only slightly on her feet. The Devas seeing their master was part of it, but seeing Gundham took up the majority of it. He knew more than anyone how much Sonia missed the dark boy. To have him ripped from her grasp, and then to think that all was going to be fine once they got out, it was like he had died in her arms twice. 

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments, before Sonia spoke up again. “Let’s go in now, shall we?” 

Hajime snapped into reality. “Right,” he said quickly. “Here, let me...uh…” He turned to the door, slowly. _‘It’s just a door. It’s just a door. It’s just a door.’_ He repeated quietly to himself, placing his hand shakily on the metal surface once more. He swallowed hard, a lump in his throat.  

 _“Hajime, please. Open the door,”_ Nagito spoke quietly in his mind and Hajime could imagine his gentle hand on his shoulder, comforting. 

Hajime pushed the door open, his heart beating up his throat.  

It was as dim as he remembered it to be, with little lights and screens flashing and blinking.  

Suddenly, he was transported back to when he had first woken up. Back to when his hair was long and dark. His head felt fuzzy, like his vision. There was a flurry of commotion, some people in suits standing warily with hands on guns ready to whip out and fire at a moment’s notice and yelling back and forth. He didn’t know what they were saying, everything sounded muddled and out of focus. On his periphery, shapes of other people were sitting up as well; he had guessed them to be Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, Sonia, and Akane. They too were surrounded by the people in suits.

But then, shoving their way through, stumbling a bit since they had just gotten out as well, were the three who came to the game to try and save them: Makoto, with his concerned, big bright eyes, Kyoko, her presence more than enough to command her respect, and Byakuya, his tone sharp and to the point. He blinked up, recognition and relief flooding his expression and everyone was ordered to stand down. He remembered smiling, people helping him up and disconnecting all the wires from him. 

And then he remembered turning back around and looking at the bed next to his. 

Nagito’s. 

His body wasn’t there. 

Everyone else’s was, but _his_. Even though they weren’t moving to awaken, that wasn’t Hajime’s present concern at the time. He just wanted to see his face, one last time. To yell and scream and strangle him or just to hug him and run his hands through that soft white hair and tell him that everything was ok, he wasn’t sure. He remembered the feeling of all those emotions crashing into him, like a tidal wave flattening a path of skyscrapers as it flooded a city. 

He just wanted...him. 

And as Hajime stepped into the dimly lit space, he felt that same feeling as he searched for the empty bed. 

 _‘He’s not dead. He’s not dead_ . _’_

Hajime remembered Byakuya’s curt words words cutting through it all, bringing the reality to light. “Nagito is dead. The only one whose heart stopped.” Hajime remembered he had said them so carelessly. Why did he say them so carelessly? 

Hajime remembered reeling on Byakuya, something angry tightening around in his chest, squeezing his throat until he could only bring himself to express fury. He remembered his hands grabbing at Byakuya’s shirt collar like claws and yanking him forward, ruffling his perfect light brown hair. There were clicks of guns suddenly being pointed at him.

And there was a flash of fear in his blue eyes that made Hajime feel guilty, but, like it, that feeling was gone as fast as it came. “ _Where is he?_ ” Hajime remembered his voice, more like a growl, raspy from the time spent not using it. 

Byakuya’s eyes were hard, and he did not flinch. “Let go of me, then we’ll talk, _Izuru._ ” He spat the name at the end, and Hajime stopped. He was sure he wasn’t...that person anymore. Hearing the name, all of his memories of what god-awful and horrible and bloody things he had done. He bit his lip, gave the tall prick one last glare and let go of his shirt.  

Byakuya smoothed his shirt and pretended to dust himself off. He crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one leg. “When he was killed-“

“By himself.” Hajime interjected.

The prodigy obviously didn’t care and continued on “-his heart stopped. I don’t know why. Maybe the shock of the pain of a spear driving right through him did it. Anyways, all that we know is that we had to keep him alive, so we did.” Byakuya’s stare had been intense, its pressure only adding into the same in his chest.  

“We set him up on a machine that Soda had originally built. Probably for Junko or the other...Rememants. It uses electric shock to keep his heart beating. _Somehow_ it worked. But…” Byakuya trailed off. Hajime still didn’t know if there had been a smirk on his face.

“But, his brain was not functional. He wasn’t breathing, so we had oxygen injected into his blood to keep it all there.” Byakuya had paused, letting it all sink in and cocked his head just slightly. “So, I bet your next question is, ‘Is he alive?’”

Hajime remembered the sinking feeling as he awaited the answer that he already knew.

“No.” 

That single word. More powerful than anything Hajime had ever felt. Louder than anything Hajime ever heard.

His mouth was dry, but he still managed to speak out shaky words. “Then...then...why…”

“We just need his body to figure out what exactly happened. Research.” Byakuya was cold as ever. 

Was he still there? Hajime wasn’t sure. He had been allowed to see the body, but he only remembered a few flashes of Nagito’s almost-corpse and then it was black. Apparently, he had gone into a rage and nearly broke a Future Foundation agent’s skull by trying to use it to break through the window.  

Hajime hadn’t gone back since. 

_Until now._

His breath was quick, in line with the rapid tempo of his heartbeat as he stepped quietly over to where he had awoken.  

All around him, his classmates slept. Dreaming of something they’d never know of until they woke up. 

Hajime stopped in front of his old bed. He swallowed, though his throat was dry. Then, he turned to the one beside it, expecting.  

And in it, a body that shouldn’t have been there. 

“ _Kazuichi!_ What on earth are you doing there? _Sleeping_ there?” Sonia’s commanding, high voice pierced through Hajime’s introspective world.

The pink haired boy shot up with a small yell, crashing into Hajime. Consequently, the tangle of them two crashed into the equipment table that was behind Hajime. He let out a quiet hiss of pain, wincing as he hit the floor. 

“M-Miss So-Sonia?” Kazuichi asked, shaking his head groggily. He blinked his pink eyes, looked down, and Hajime blinked up back at the mechanic. 

“Well, I do not know much, but I believe this is called a _‘yow-eh’_ moment!” Sonia gasped from the side. 

The boys looked up and down at each other and Hajime realized that there was a rather heavy weight on his body and that Kazuichi’s face was very close to his own. His pink eyes blocked the entire view, and his face was as red as Hajime guessed his own was.

Then, with a rather alarming loudness, Kazuichi gave a startled yell, reeled back, scrambling up as quickly as he could, and somehow managing to kick Hajime’s...sensitive area. “F-Fuck…” Hajime wheezed, curling into a ball. Kazuichi turned. 

“Ah! H-Hajime! Shit! I-“ The pink boy turned over to Sonia, who was rushing over.

Hajime have a quiet groan. This entire morning was too much, much too early.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a lot;; plot twist this is really a kaz x Hajime fic skksksksks 
> 
> no but really this is actually my longest chapter so far!! I’m trying to push myself a bit a write a bit more for each chapter :,)) 
> 
> Anyways, thank you guys for all the kudos and I hope you guys continue to like my story!! I’m having a super fun time writing it!!


	5. announcement/update

uhm so this isn’t an upstate on the story itself, but an update on me. 

I’m sure you all have noticed that this hasn’t been updated in quite some time. I’m deeply sorry about that- leaving you all on a cliffhanger and such. 

I feel pretty bad about it, but I have been incredibly busy with school, and I just wanted to let you all know that I am still thinking about continuing on and eventually finishing this.

But, the thing is, when I’m passionate and excited about something for a very long time, I tend to drop out of it after it seems to have run it’s course. So, am I still into Danganronpa? Yes. Just...not as much. I’ve realized that as much as I love this wonderful series, I love so many other things- other shows, other books, other games, and my own characters. While I was consumed in my craze for Danganronpa, I had forgotten about all that other stuff. 

And going back to them, returning to shows and my original characters that I had forgotten about has just felt so nice. 

I think what I’m trying to say is that I’ve needed a change of scenery, and I think I am getting it :) I have two stories in the works with characters of my own that make me so excited to even thing about, much like how Danganronpa once did. 

With all that being said, and like I said earlier, I WILL be continuing this fic. Just expect very slow updates. Nagito has to be my all time favorite fictional character- he’s always in the back of my mind. 

If you’d like to interact with me more or just see what I’ve been up to, I’m just gonna do a quick shameless self promo and say that my (art) Instagram is @lav.end.eerie. I haven’t drawn Danganronpa for a bit, but I hope you all enjoy my works regardless.

I hope you all who have dropped kudos, bookmarked, or just read my work and smiled are doing well, and are still interested in my story :) Thank you for your patience and understanding.

-Spooky


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